Brother had insisted he return to Cloud Recesses. “Just for a day at least. Please Wangji.” and so Lan Wangji had come.
Even as he’d crossed the newly raised spiritual barrier - tingling with power that lacked the deep notes the old ones had had, like tea brewed in a new pot that still needed leaves when all your life you’d had a well seasoned one that could make tea from water alone - Lan Wangji had itched to turn back around.
Wei Ying was still missing.
As Lan Xichen sighed, Lan Wangji had made his first priority making use of himself strengthening the shield. For hours he stood at the barrier, one hand held in a focusing seal, his other palm hovering an inch away from the barrier and feeding spiritual power into it. His first hard shove of energy had made the others cry out, and shortly they shuffled away with looks of awe and left him to peacefully rearrange the power in the barrier to be more even.
Once he began to fatigue, Lan Wangji stubbornly remained even after the others trickled away. Rearranging the existing energy was significantly less taxing, and the whole thing was littered with weak points. Lines of inexperienced disciples throwing all their strength into the barrier making a honeycomb of strength and weakness that could be easily exploited, larger swaths of more neatly laid power from older cultivators focusing overmuch on the major entrances and the paths the Wen had taken in and out.
Too many of those who’d most frequently patrolled the perimeter had survived, most of them had been on duty and the first casualties the day of the Wen’s burning. Only the old bones that had survived their shattering were keeping those areas defended now. Lan Wangji grasped the power in the barrier with brute force and a delicate touch in a way only a pureblooded Lan could and smoothed it out into something that could defend them and grow stronger than what had come before.
Uncle wandered over once and hummed with approval at his actions, settling a hand on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and feeding him energy directly for him to arrange as he pleased.
By nightfall, Lan Wangji was tired and quietly satisfied with his work. A pale balm to the knowledge he could be retracing Wei Ying’s steps and manage to catch some overlooked clue this time. After a swift dinner with his brother and Uncle, Lan Xichen excused him with a furrowed brow that lingered over his heavy lidded blinking and the twitch of his head as it took longer and longer for his eyes to open.
Even exhausted though, Lan Wangji only gave the bed a longing look before settling at his guqin. Inquiry echoed as neatly as ever, exhaustion marring his form not at all, and as ever, the spirits that responded knew nothing of Wei Ying. Eyes itching with every blink, Lan Wangji only played Inquiry once more before undressing for bed.
The next thing he was aware of was a loud bang of wood on wood.
Heart in his throat, Bichen slamming into his palm with a thought, Lan Wangji rose up in a defensive stance before the flurry of white rushing through the door resolved into his brother.
“Wangji!” Lan Xichen gasped, hands clutching his sleeve and beginning to drag him toward the door before his eyes caught on Lan Wangjis sleeping clothes and he redirected him toward his wardrobe. “You must hurry, Young Master Wei has just appeared on the stairs to Cloud Recesses.”
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji’s fingers froze over unfolding his clothing, then began to rush. Lan Xichen’s hands darted forward, tucking and folding where his shaking hands fumbled. “Is he alright?”
“No.” Lan Xichen said gravely, making the blood freeze in his veins. “He seems very badly off and won’t allow anyone near him. His wounds, and how frail he looks…I worry we would injure him badly even in a gentle fight. He let me near for a moment, then pushed me away when I spoke to him. I think he realized I was not you.”
Lan Wangji glanced up at him, some unnameable emotion swirling in his chest that he stifled quickly. He needed to focus. “Where is he now?” he asked as they hurried out of the Jingshi.
“Still on the stairs.” Lan Xichen’s face flickered with a grieved look. “He seems intent only on walking up the stairs so I’ve told the disciples to monitor him so he does not fall down them.”
The run to the main stairs was too long and too short at once.
As Wei WuXian came into sight, Lan Wangji gasped.
His skin was grey with dirt and illness, sunken to his bones in a ghastly way. His black hair that had once hung in a glossy sheet that curled and waved at the ends like water rolling in on itself at the shore of a lake now hung in greasy strings and thick mats, greyed with what Lan Wangji hoped was dust and not the bleaching of trauma. Only knowing he was wearing Yunmeng Jiang robes guided his eye to the remnants of fine embroidery, the cloth so coated with unspeakable dark stains it had stiffened the expensive silks to resemble the worst roughspun beggars cloth.
Where once Wei WuXian had stepped lightly, always on the edge of bouncing light-footed and free, he now shuffled and limped, bending down as Lan Wangji watched to set one hand on a step in front of himself and nearly crawl a few stairs before rising with a wobble and taking another hunched step up.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji choked out.
Wei WuXian stopped, swaying. His eyes rose slowly and for a long, terrifying moment seemed empty of anything at all. Then a small spark of recognition lit in them and he took another step, this time clearly toward Lan Wangji instead of simply forward.
Lan Wangji hurried to meet him, slowing and drawing himself up as he neared and gently reached out to capture his hands and steady him. “Wei Ying.”
Wei WuXian’s hands clutched convulsively at him. His eyes closed and his face relaxed in a relief so profound Lan Wangji pressed his fingers urgently against the flutter of his pulse in his wrist to be sure he hadn’t died where he stood.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji raised one hand to touch his shoulder and pull his swaying body closer in a sudden need to shield his weakness from the many staring eyes around them. “Hold on,” he whispered as he pushed spiritual power to him, cursing as it faultered, weakened from his work with the barrier. “Hold on, I will get you to a healer.”
Wei WuXian took as shaky breath as he bowed forward, nearly collapsing against Lan Wangji’s chest.
“I heard you.” his voice rasped so deeply Lan Wangji’s own throat ached in sympathy. “I heard your voice calling -calling me.” his hands reached to grasp Lan Wangji’s robes in something too desperate to be a hug. “You called me and I followed your voice. I followed-followed…out. Away.”
Arms lifting to hold Wei WuXian, heedless of the filth that stained his own robes and skin, Lan Wangji swallowed thickly. “Yes.” he said. The only thing he could say.
“You, what is your name?” Wei WuXian whispered against his shoulder.
Lan Wangji’s heart turned cold.
“Your name. You called me. I came so far to find you. I only know your voice. Please, what is your name?” Wei WuXian’s voice was too breathy, trailing off with looming unconsciousness, but nothing had every sounded more deafening in Lan Wangji’s ears.
Lan Wangji’s horrified gaze rose to his brothers. Lan Xichen’s eyes darted to Wei WuXian a second before he shifted against Lan Wangji’s shoudler unhappily. Heart breaking, but able to deny him nothing, Lan Wangji spoke into hair that smelled for the grave.
“Lan Zhan. My name is Lan Zhan.”
“Lan Zhan.” Wei WuXian’s tongue slurred the name. A second later his eyes rolled up and he fell limp in Lan Wangji’s arms.
“Brother-” Lan Wangji looked up at him desperately, begging his brother to make this right.
Lan Xichen gave him a pained look and turned to the cultivators around them. “The stretcher, hurry.”
Reluctantly, Lan Wangji lowered him to the stretcher that was hurried to his side. Unable to let go of him completely, he held Wei WuXian’s hand and ran alongside the stretcher on the way to the healing hall.
When hours turned into a day with no news but harried assurances the healers rushing in and out of Wei WuXian’s room were doing all they could, Lan Wangji left only briefly to wash and collect his guqin, then resettled in the hall. Over another day he perfected his skill playing neutral healing songs, altering his spiritual energy and the precision of his hands on the strings to braid through and enhance the energy he could feel working in the other room.
Lan Wangji played through another night tirelessly, not pausing his playing even to accept the food and water that was brought to him. He knew inedia, he could bear it a while longer if it helped Wei WuXian even a little.
He learned word had been sent to the Yunmeng front when Jiang Wanyin slammed through the doors to the hall, his sister a step behind.
“Where is he?!” Jiang Wanyin shouted, roughly shaking off the healers and servants that tried to calm him. “Where is Wei WuXian?” his head turned toward the guqin music then and a thunderous scowl crossed his face, barely hiding the anxiety as he strode toward Lan Wangji. “Second Master Lan. I was told Wei WuXian showed up here. I demand to see him now.”
Lan Wangji darted him an impassive look. He’d searched too frantically beside him for Lan Wangji to openly disapprove of him, but he pointedly plucked one particular note, sliding his thumb and drawing it out into a mournful warble with a soft rocking motion where it was pressed.
“Healed? They said he walked here days ago! How can they still be healing him? What are his injuries?”
“A-Cheng.” Jiang Yanli’s soft voice cut through his growing tirade with the ease of someone used to handling more difficult charges. Lan Wangji nodded in reply to the polite bow she gave him. “Second Master Lan, do you have any news on A-Xian’s condition?”
“No news.” Lan Wangji said softly. “Two days and two nights the healers have been working, but have said nothing.”
“Then we will wait with you.” It was not a question, but Lan Wangji nodded anyway and turned his gaze to a set of cushions stacked in the corner. Jiang Wanyin settled on the cushion his sister brought him only a few minutes before leaping up and beginning to pace.
It was midday before the head healer finally stepped out and bowed formally to them.
The healers face was grim, but no amount of bracing himself could prepare Lan Wangji to hear the extent of Wei WuXian’s injuries. Bones and organs crushed, held together with an infection of resentful energy that was trying to knit him together and corrupt him all at once. A series more mundane infections ravaged his body, blooming from an array of filthy wounds ranging from a clean stab from a sword thrust clean through, to ragged, ripped flesh from clamping teeth and skeletal fingers ripping into him. Signs of torture, fierce corpses, some fall from a great height. A silent map of the pain and suffering Wei WuXian had endured until now.
None of it anything to the hesitant words the healer gave at the end.
“He’ll live, but our healing skills were…limited, so I cannot yet be sure how well he will recover.” bowing too slowly to cover his wince, the healer continued. “I can say for sure though, Young Master Wei will never be a cultivator again.”
“What? Why?” Jiang Wanyin demanded, voice edging on hysterical.
The healer winced and looked as if he desperately wanted to flee. His eyes turned to Lan Wangji’s silent figure, then dropped to the floor in another bow. “I am sorry to tell you, he does not have a Golden Core.”
Jiang Wanyin staggered back and Jiang Yanli’s eyes filled with tears as Lan Wangji’s couldn’t in that moment.
He remained numb through the following screaming, Jiang Wanyins alternating demands and denials, threats and self recrimination .
Wei WuXian woke two days later.
The last vestige of hope Lan Wangji had that delerium and infection had addled his mind died when Wei WuXian looked at the Jiangs and did not know them at all. Jiang Wanyin rocked back at the question “Who are you?” like it was a blow. His raging grew until the healers dragged him out, worried he would inflict some violence in his wrath, while Jiang Yanli silently smothered her sadness until she could no longer endure Wei WuXian’s uncomprehending looks her way and ran from the room.
Lan Wangji settled beside him then, taking his hand, free of dirt now, but still black with bruises and met Wei WuXian’s frightened, uncertain gaze steadily.
Wei WuXian’s eyes said he barely knew him, but his fingers tightened around his own like he was hanging onto the only bit of driftwood in the middle of the sea. Beneath the fear, Lan Wangji watched that quicksilver mind working even through the haze of the pain medicine, saw strength and resiliency. A touch of spiritual power, a hint, perhaps of foresight that ran through his blood made his next exhale slow and certain. “I just knew.” It had been a long time since he’d thought on the words his father had said to him as a child. One of the few times he ever spoke of Mother to him. “I just knew it with all my heart.”
Wei WuXian would never be the same.
His memories might never return at all, he might never lose that fear and sadness, this new heaviness in a body that could no longer leap lightfooted with spiritual power of soar into the sky on a sword. He was still Wei WuXian though. And Lan Wangji loved him.
He loved him. With all his heart.
Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened around Wei WuXians reassuringly.
“I will stay by your side as long as you want me. I will support you always.” he said, feeling it was too much and not enough. His heart lunging over a cliff he wasn’t ready for, but could not avoid. “I will help you, Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan.” Wei WuXian choked out, tears pooling, but not yet falling.
“I will stay beside you.” He repeated. A promise.
“Say-say it again.” Wei WuXian reached for him with his other hand, and Lan Wangji reached back, letting him pull his hand back until his palm rested against a bruised and swollen cheek.
“I will stay beside you. Always.” he repeated again. A vow. “Always.”
Wei WuXian’s tears overflowed, silent until they tapped against the bedspread. “Why?” he cried out, eyes flickering just slightly toward the door the only family he had had just fled through.
It should have been hard. He should have hesitated. The words should have gotten lost somewhere between his heart and his tongue like they did so terribly often, but they didn’t. It was the truth and the truth had always come easiest to him, no matter how hard.
